


open hand or closed fist

by turnandburn



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Ensemble Cast, Gen, Minor Injuries, Misandry, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Chabashira Tenko, Sexual Humor, accidental violence, and babysitter, don’t sneak up on martial artists when ur in a killing game kids, miu is one of the main characters okay, tenko is a hypocrite and i hope that’s clear in her narration, tenko is our lovely protagonist, which will be tagged if/when they become relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29213973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnandburn/pseuds/turnandburn
Summary: The bookshelf slides away from the wall with a rumble and a groan. It swings to the left, pivoting on one corner as if on hinges. Ouma is forced to step out of the way of the bookcase as it reveals the wall—or rather, the door concealed behind it.Well, that explains the drag marks on the floor.The door is split down the middle, mimicking Monokuma’s black and white coloring. A card reader is mounted to the right of the door, shiny and new, totally out of place among the mildew-infested books.“Holy shit,” Iruma says.“What the fuck,” Tenko says.“Cool!” Ouma chirps.The urge to dropkick him intensifies when he skips forward to examine the doors, hands tucked behind his back as he leans forward in interest. That level of nonchalance cannotbe normal./Tenko becomes one third of the most chaotic trio at the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles. Keeping everyone alive just got three times harder.
Relationships: Chabashira Tenko & Iruma Miu, Chabashira Tenko & Iruma Miu & Oma Kokichi, Chabashira Tenko & Oma Kokichi
Comments: 15
Kudos: 32





	1. prologue (1/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello and welcome to me fervently attempting to answer the question, 'what if tenko, miu, and kokichi teamed up to end the killing game?'
> 
> what if, indeed
> 
> i have most of the prologue arc written and a plan for as far as the end of the first trial, but after that it gets fuzzy. i don't have strong feelings for or against this section but i wanted to keep the chapters at a manageable length, so you'll have to wait for the goods™
> 
> this fic is a shot in the dark and i'm taking you all along for the ride

The Death Road of Despair lives up to its name.

Tenko is used to repetition. Aikido forms are so familiar to her that running through them is mindless, the same poses in different orders ultimately delivering to her the same results: satisfaction, heady and burning in her muscles when she rises to the challenge; a clear head, the type of intense focus that takes her through hours at the dojo in the blink of an eye; her heart thundering against her ribs, a taciturn declaration of life.

The repetition of Aikido never disappoints. This, though…

“One—One more time,” Akamatsu gasps, clutching her side. Her breath shakes with every inhale, but she wipes the sweat from her face and straightens up. The grimace on her face turns into a smile strained with exertion. “This time we’ll definitely make it.”

Yumeno leans against Tenko’s side, grumbling nearly inaudible from where her face is pressed into Tenko’s shirt. She’s too tired to be embarrassed that Yumeno is face to face with Tenko’s sweat.

The rest of the group seems to share her exhaustion. Saihara is sprawled out flat on his back, his hat pulled over his face. Hoshi, just now beginning to break a sweat, toes his side and tells him to stand up with his arms at his side to maximize his lung capacity. Gokuhara looks similarly unbothered, busy patting Ouma and Yonaga on the back and probably knocking the breath right back out of them. Shinguji moves delicately out from underneath Shirogane’s palm when she attempts to use his shoulder to support herself. Tojo and Iruma are knelt on either side of Kiibo’s metal frame, an uncharacteristically serious look on the latter’s face; Tenko can hear the faint whine of Kiibo’s fans trying and failing to keep his interior cool. Momota and Amami are talking quietly at the side of the group, long gaps punctuating their conversation and revealing that they aren’t as unaffected by the exercise as they appear. Harukawa lingers by the entrance to the tunnel and glares at anyone that looks her way.

Man, almost everyone here is out of shape. Even the athletes have started to flag. Tenko resolves to up her training regimen when she gets back to the dojo; if a dozen runs of this stupid trap are enough to drain her like this, she’ll never master Neo-Aikido!

Yumeno gets louder, until Tenko can finally make out what she’s saying. She voices her usual complaint. “This is such a pain… Can’t we give it a rest already?”

Privately, Tenko agrees, if only for the sake of the particularly unathletic. Saihara looks like his face might explode if it gets any redder, Iruma wobbles when she gets to her feet, and Ouma hasn’t even tried getting back up. Akamatsu’s legs shake underneath her even as she tries to hype everyone up for another attempt.

This is the kind of repetition that makes people tell you you’re crazy, Tenko thinks as she avoids a tile she _knows_ has a flamethrower hidden underneath. How many times can you do the same thing until you officially cross over from determined to insane?

The tunnel lights up at random intervals as the flamethrowers activate. Explosions send sound skittering across the stone floors and ceilings. Metal clangs and drops heavily at their feet, reflecting the strobing lights. She feels like she’s at the worst rave ever. A cage falls from the ceiling; Tenko shoves Yonaga out of the way and mentally apologizes for being so rough. Yonaga just smiles at her, grim and cheerful.

When another weight cracks the stone at her feet, she throws herself out of the way too fast. She stumbles over her feet, caught up in her own momentum. Behind her, someone calls her name. Her head turns in their direction—who _was_ that?—but it’s already too late.

Tenko fails to avoid the bomb that detonates centimeters from her face. The world goes black once more.

She wakes up back in the sewer, the echoes of the explosion mingling with the ragged breathing of her classmates. Ouma is leaning over her, pale cheeks flushed and fatigue written on his features. It disappears beneath a thin-lipped smile when he notices that she’s awake.

“Did you have a good nap?”

“You better not have been the one who carried me back.” Tenko says, then remembers who she’s talking to. There’s no way someone that scrawny could lift her on their own. It’s too late to take the words back and Ouma’s judgmentally raised eyebrow lets her know exactly how stupid he thinks she is.

“That was Harukawa-chan,” he says. “So don’t worry, you definitely don’t have cooties. Oh! Unless you caught them from her. In that case I claim zero responsibility, and any complaints you file will be thrown out before a judge can ever see them.”

Tenko doesn’t reply, just shakes a clenched fist in his face as a non-verbal threat. Ouma laughs at her and disappears from view, settling on his butt far enough away that Tenko doesn’t feel the need to move. She closes her eyes again, rubbing her temple with one hand.

“Bomb to the face, huh?”

“I thought I was getting better at dodging them,” she says. Everyone’s been hit by now, and the only ones who haven’t passed out at least once are Harukawa, Tojo, and Gokuhara—which is a relief, since Tenko has no idea how long it would take to lug Gokuhara’s gigantic body out of the tunnel.

“Evidently not.”

Tenko grunts, displeased but unable to deny it.

“I guess even dumb jocks like you run out of gas sometimes.”

“I’m gonna grind your teeth into the dirt.”

Later, Ouma calls Akamatsu out for strong-arming them and Tenko hates that she can’t brush it off as more of the nonsense that so often comes out of his mouth.

She knows now that the Death Road of Despair isn’t for them to beat; it’s purpose is to beat _them_ into the ground as many times as they’re foolish enough to engage it. That’s probably been obvious from the start. It’s even in the name. They wanted to believe leaving could be that simple and ignored the fact that a labeled exit is far too convenient. Why offer your hostages an actual chance at escape when you can dress up a sewer as a dungeon and let them run themselves into the ground trying to get out?

It’s enough to convince Tenko that despite Akamatsu and Momota propping the rest of them up with their willpower, they’re never going to win. Not like this.

But saying Ouma’s right feels like saying their situation is hopeless, and Tenko has never quite known when to call it quits. She’s far too stubborn for that. She doesn’t want to stop believing yet.

So she adds her voice to theirs, tells Ouma not to be selfish, wondering all the while if Akamatsu and Momota are doing the same thing she is. Wondering which would be worse: being ignorant or lying to yourself. Does it really matter, if the effect is the same in the end?

Keeping the group together is Tenko’s first priority. If they start fighting they’ll just get distracted from their goal. They already decided: they’re going to escape together, as friends, or not at all.

When Tenko tunes back in, Ouma is talking again. His finger hovers over his lips the way he does when he’s being especially difficult. “Let’s just find another way out, okay?”

He’s right, obviously; their breaks have been getting longer but they’ve been recovering less as time goes on. They wouldn’t be able to get past the Death Road of Despair in this condition even if it was possible at all.

Amami takes the appearance of Ouma’s signature pose as a threat. “... You’re talking about the killing game, aren’t you?”

Does it say more about Amami or Ouma, that that’s his first impression? They’re both ominous at times, a different kind of weird than Tenko observes in most boys. Sharp, a little dangerous, held aloft with confidence that it’ll land on target even as everyone around questions the need to strike.

The smile on Ouma’s face is baffling. Tenko would have already punched Amami for suggesting she’d want to start the killing game, but Ouma doesn’t seem the slightest bit bothered. “Oh, so you’re gonna interpret it like that, huh?”

“Wh-What are you saying?!” Tenko exclaims, unsure which one of them she’s addressing. She speaks next to the group at large. “There’s no way we can do the killing game!”

It’s all they’ve been saying since Monokuma made his announcement in the gym. Tenko’s going to keep saying it even if they never get out of this stupid dome.

(‘We’ll never play the killing game’ already feels stale in her mouth. How many times has she said it already? Ten? Twenty? Saying it is like putting her shoulders up against a dam about to burst and hoping that if she doesn’t move, neither will it.

Then the dam cracks open anyways and everyone’s fatigue and misery is everywhere and Tenko is horribly, shamefully _relieved_.)

They descend into argument once more.

When all is said and done, Tenko can’t bring herself to regret defending Akamatsu from that bubblegum-peddling shrimp, but she also knows that she took the other girl’s side not because she agreed with Akamatsu but because Ouma was attacking her. She just wishes that Ouma hadn’t been _right_.

She hates how good it feels to give up, like finally dropping out of a plank after holding it far past the point of shaking limbs and burning muscles. That sort of instant relief is dangerous to give in to, no matter how enticing the sudden dissolution of a mountain of stress is. Tenko isn’t in danger of becoming addicted to throwing in the towel, but she can’t say the same for the likes of spineless Saihara and sketchy Amami.

More than that, she hates that in the end she heard Ouma’s words— _Ouma,_ obnoxious little Ouma whose sole talent appears to be giving everyone around him a headache within two seconds of opening his mouth—and _agreed with them_. Remembering his excitement at the announcement of the killing game leaves a bad taste in her mouth. Of all the boys here, he’s the last one Tenko wants to support.

Maybe it was the right thing to do, but her cowardice weighs her down as she scales the ladder and hauls herself out of the manhole. The atmosphere is heavy and dense with their exhausted, defeated silence. Not even the relief of the open night air makes her feel better; she hadn’t realized how humid the sewer had gotten until she clambered high enough for the breeze to catch her face and cool the sweat on her skin.

They leave the darkness of the sewers behind, but the dank, desolate oppression it fostered follows Tenko all the way back to the dormitory prepared for them by Monokuma and his stupid cubs. Her voice is nearly unrecognizable when she says goodnight to Yumeno, but she doesn’t stick around long enough for anyone to comment on it.

Despite her exhaustion, she can’t sleep. The bed in her dorm is comfortable enough and her limbs are heavy as she climbs into it. Her eyes burn when she closes them. That last conversation in the sewers sits at the forefront of her mind, keeping her awake. The talk of starting the killing game, Ouma putting into words what the others wouldn’t, the stricken expression on Akamatsu’s face when she was forced to recognize that they were doing nothing more than driving themselves into the ground.

_You won’t let us give up and no matter what we say, you have the moral high ground…_

Akamatsu is amazing, is the thing. That bullheaded optimism fits her much better than it does Momota. In a way, she was right to keep pushing them; they can’t give up just because they get tired, or because it hurts to press on. Sticking around this long is practically inviting one of the boys to do something unsavory; she has no desire to test their luck with something as audacious as a killing game hanging over their heads.

Ouma’s suggestion of finding another way is something they can work with. If anyone here is up to the challenge, it’s Akamasu.

_That… doesn’t sound like torture to you?_

Torture or not, Ouma will have to tough it out. They all will.

They don't have a choice.

/

There's no clock in her bedroom, for some reason. Her Monopad lets her know it’s just after five when she wakes from her fitful sleep. Annoyed but not surprised, she rolls out of bed to rummage through the closet. Like the night before, it contains several exact replicas of her usual outfit, an extra pair of shoes, and nothing else. Not great for sleeping or exercising in, but perhaps she can find something more suitable in the warehouse later. Shirogane might make her something more comfortable if she can work up the nerve to ask her for a favor… Not that Tenko’s going to be around long enough to need them.

Thoughts for later. For now, Tenko pulls on her shoes, straightens out the wrinkles in her clothes, and resolves to find a secluded area outside to work out in. She makes sure to lock her door behind her, though the action is unfamiliar. Locking up has never been a concern for her; Master isn’t the type to enter people’s rooms uninvited, and even if he weren’t Tenko’d trust him not to go into hers. She feels a bit sad, twisting the key in the lock and jiggling the knob to make sure it’s locked properly. Locking her door is a part of her reality for however long it takes to get out of here, and not just because she has to co-exist with eight boys now.

The key goes in her pocket. Her Monopad remains behind since it’s too big to fit in her clothes. Hopefully she won’t need it in the next few hours; she can’t see why she _would_ , but leaving it behind makes her strangely jittery. She’ll have to look for some kind of bag when she goes to the warehouse. Who knows, the stupid thing could prove useful for something other than giving the group access to everyone’s chest measurements.

It takes her a while to survey the grounds for a spot both flat and out of the way. She ends up over by what Saihara called the Shrine of Judgement—and she has to wonder if the thirty percent of the map that’s filled in is all labeled that dramatically.

Tenko steps off the path, into the grass between the plaza and the rectangular building on the left. The sun lights the sky, a dim gray that casts a dark tint over the grass. She’s far enough from the dorms that she lets herself yell as loud as she wants to build up her spirit energy. Her warm-up stretches loosen up some of the tension she’s been carrying in her shoulders ever since she woke up sitting across from Yumeno in the dining hall.

She sticks to the basic forms. There are no mats here, no training dummies or sparring partners, so she’s limited to what she can do on her own. She needs to be in tip-top shape if those Exisals come back to keep them in line, and backup wouldn’t be amiss. Gokuhara and Momota both seem pretty fit, but Tenko’d prefer not to stoop to recruiting men until she has to. Harukawa is the one Tenko really has her eye on. While scary as all hell, she has the sort of intensity that makes Tenko think she’d take well to combat, if she isn’t already trained in martial arts.

Maybe she could get all of the girls to join her. If they’re going to be hanging around all these strangers, Tenko might as well teach them to defend themselves from the advances of perverts! It would be advantageous, too, if they end up needing to fight their way out of captivity.

Tenko lets her thoughts wander, recalling yesterday’s events and using the resulting wave of emotion to fuel her movements. Holding her body in the familiar fighting stances puts her at ease. The sun continues to rise around her as she transitions between katas, sweat pouring down her face and taking with it some of her negativity. Strands of hair stick to the undersides of her arms and her exposed back when her ponytail brushes against her bare skin.

Eventually she slows to a stop, dropping back onto the ground to stretch again. Her breath is heavy, but comfortably so. She could keep going for _hours_ , she knows she could, but even the Ultimate Aikido Master knows not to burn the candle at both ends. (This is a lesson hard-learned and sometimes overlooked but Tenko can’t afford to burn out right now. She's got people depending on her and there's no way she's going to let them down.)

The shower isn’t satisfying despite the luxury of a private bathroom. She can’t relax with the feeling of phantom eyes watching her. There aren’t any cameras in the bedroom or its attached bathroom—Tenko checked last night before undressing. She doesn’t want _anyone_ watching her, especially not whatever men brought them here. Paranoia still drives her from the shower and into a towel as soon as possible.

The monitor in her room turns itself on just as she finishes buttoning up her top. She jumps, feet moving into a defensive stance and arms raised in front of her, a startled battle cry ricocheting off the walls. But of course, no one’s there; she’d locked the door on her way in and would have heard anyone trying to break in. It hasn’t even been a day and being in this place is already making her paranoid.

Tenko groans, snatching her discarded towel off the ground and balling it up. The _thwack_ of the damp material hitting the monitor’s screen makes her smile in vindictive glee. She can still hear the Monokubs’ muffled chattering as she trudges back to the bathroom to do her hair. After wrestling with a brush and a package of hair ties—the same brand she uses back home, a fact as disturbing as it is vaguely comforting—for twenty minutes, she ties her ribbons above her shoulders and clips her green bow to the back of her head.

Adjusting her headband with one hand, she scoops her up her Monopad and turns off the lights. They hadn’t made formal plans to meet for breakfast, but it’s likely that the others will be heading to the dining hall sooner or later. She hadn’t done any more exploring after leaving the sewers or come across anything of note while working out. It’s possible that Akamatsu or Saihara found something helpful after last night’s fiasco; Tenko’s pretty sure she saw Akamatsu drag Saihara off, anyways, and she refuses to believe that Saihara of all people has already managed to score a girl as brilliant as Akamatsu.

No, better to assume they did something productive with their time. It's better for her blood pressure that way. And Saihara's face.

All Tenko can bring to the table is a good attitude and some brawn. If someone like Akamatsu’s leading, Tenko has no problem following orders and playing a supporting role for the other girls to lean on. Door locked and Monopad in hand, Tenko makes her way to the dining hall.

The towel remains draped over the monitor to block out further announcements, should she have to return to her room. She really, really hopes she won’t have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapters are all going to be named according to what chapter of the game they would take place in, and that's also how i'll refer to the arcs going forward
> 
> if you have any questions about this fic or want to chat, feel free to shoot me an ask on my [tumblr](https://knuckle--bones.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> thanks for reading!


	2. prologue (2/?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exploring the school shouldn't be so complicated. Between Iruma slacking and Ouma nearly biting the dust, Tenko's life has somehow gotten even more interesting. And exhausting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think that the second half of this chapter goes downhill in quality but i've looked at it so long i can no longer tell. also, this chapter is almost 10k but the idea of breaking it in half was like, painful. i don't want to drag the prologue on but there's a surprising amount of stuff that goes down
> 
> gotta lay the groundwork _somewhere_ , i guess

Saihara and Akamatsu have taken charge of the investigation.

Well, Akamatsu has taken charge; she greets each member of their 'class' as they enter the dining hall, determination and cheer painted across her face as if yesterday's defeat is already far behind them. Saihara sits beside her as she leads the conversation and fumbles with his chopsticks every time she directs their attention to him. He stutters out some suggestions, voice evening out as his ideas fail to provoke any of the boos he seems to expect. By the end he sounds almost confident, outlining the importance of keeping order and cooperating without prompting.

Then he accidentally makes eye contact with Akamatsu and ruins it by choking on his own spit.

Tenko exchanges a judgmental look with Yumeno, who huffs and lays her head on the table. On her other side, Iruma cackles and says something about choking that makes Ouma perk up and call her a whore. Tenko only stops threatening his life when Akamatsu clears her throat to recapture their attention.

While Momota pounds on Saihara’s back, Akamatsu’s eyes flicker over the rest of them. Her smile looks forced, just a little too wide to be completely genuine. Tenko can’t blame her. The faint bags under her eyes indicate a night of poor sleep, and directing sixteen Ultimates towards any sort of common goal would be a formidable task in the most mundane of circumstances. Not to mention the prolonged interaction with Saihara, which requires careful social navigation and patience, qualities Tenko finds admirable in others but exhausting to perform. Akamatsu pats Saihara’s hand when his coughing subsides. Tenko tries not to twitch too obviously.

“I think it would be worthwhile to organize a more methodical search of the grounds,” Saihara says, managing to peek around the bill of his hat long enough to survey their faces. His face is pink, possibly due to nearly choking, definitely because Akamatsu’s hand lingers on top of his for longer than necessary.

Iruma appears to take this as some sort of slight. “What do you think we spent all that time doing yesterday, Kusaihara?! Maybe _you_ were too busy staring at Bakamatsu’s sagging tits like a nasty ol’ perv, but the rest of us decided not to be totally fuckin’ useless!”

Maybe she sensed Saihara getting comfortable and wanted to cut him down before he got bold enough to do something properly untoward or degenerate-like. Tenko approves.

“He’s not useless,” Momota protests.

Tenko's not so sure about that. Saihara’s lack of confidence clearly interferes with his ability to do his job, _and_ he’s a boy. That combination isn’t doing wonders for anyone here; without Akamatsu propping him up, any good ideas he had wouldn’t make their way out of his mouth. In a situation like this, little could be more useless.

"Useless or not, putting a pervert in charge is a big fuckin' mistake! He probably thinks with his dick."

“Would you stop calling me a pervert already? It’s just a hat!” Saihara’s anger, uncharacteristic and sudden, surprises everyone but Akamatsu. Tenko's almost impressed, but it’s obvious that he has no idea what to do with it beyond his initial outburst. He settles for gripping the edge of the table and directing his scowl in Iruma’s general direction.

Tenko's lost, but his words mean something to Iruma, who puffs up at the challenge, and Akamatsu, who sighs and puts her head in her hands. She’s pretty sure she wants to remain ignorant to whatever incident transpired between the three of them. She’s also pretty sure that she doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

“I can wear what I want,” Saihara says moodily, aggression already pittering out. He shrinks under the group's gaze.

“Sure,” Iruma scoffs. She gets more fired up the longer she talks. “It’s _just_ a hat, and pornos are _just_ movies for adults, and the creepy man hanging around outside an elementary school is _just_ loitering. How much time did you waste with your hand down your pants, huh? We could have been out of here already—”

“Weren’t you the one who was looking for a way to get high instead of investigating like the rest of us?” Akamatsu cuts in before Saihara can defend himself or his emo hat.

(Or possibly start crying. It would be a special kind of pathetic, since Tenko wouldn’t even be able to enjoy witnessing him get shit-talked to tears. Boys truly ruin everything for her.)

That takes the wind right out of Iruma’s sails. “W-Well, I’m not the detective here!” She points an accusative finger at Saihara.

“Right. So maybe we should listen to Saihara-kun. You know, the detective.” Akamatsu's smile reappears, all teeth. It doesn’t match her friendly tone, though it’s more exasperated than outright aggressive.

“R-Right.” Iruma deflates, sniffling.

“It’s alright, Iruma-san.” Tenko lowers her voice sympathetically. “If any boy tries to get close to you, I’ll ward them off with my Neo-Aikido!”

Iruma gives a halfhearted nod. Momota smacks Saihara’s shoulder and Akamatsu gestures for him to continue.

“Ah…” He scrambles to pick up where he left off. “Well. If we split up and more thoroughly examine each area, we’ll be able to maximize our information more quickly than if we all just explore on our own.”

“A lot of areas were inaccessible, but we could devote more time to trying to open them.” Kiibo places a hand on his chin, looking thoughtful.

“There might be something useful hidden in one of them,” Amami agrees. “They’ve got to be locked up for a reason, right?”

“Good thinking,” Akamatsu says. She unlocks her Monopad, pulling up the map feature.

Tenko does the same. Fourteen pixelated icons crowd the dining hall; Yumeno’s and Amami’s are still in their rooms, so they must have left their Monopads behind. They’re kind of bulky, but she should encourage Yumeno to keep hers close anyways. Tenko can hold it for her if it’s too tiresome for Yumeno to carry it around!

“So let’s get going!” Momota cheers with undue enthusiasm.

“Most of us haven’t finished eating yet,” Tenko points out. “Be more considerate! Yumeno-san needs to eat to replenish her MP!”

“Oh, right.” Momota clears his throat. “Well, everyone eat up, then! It’s important to keep your strength up.” He proceeds to pile more food onto Saihara’s plate, scolding him for trying to get away with having toast and coffee for breakfast.

The open areas are divided into five sections, each assigned a team of two to re-examine it: the three floors of the school, the courtyard, and the backyard. They agree to find a partner to investigate with, for safety reasons and to keep each other on task. 

“I wanna go with Kiiboy!” Ouma exclaims, tugging on the robot’s arm.

“Ouma-kun, let go!”

Ouma ignores Kiibo’s struggling. No one’s particularly eager to help him extract his arm from Ouma’s clutches. Iruma grumbles under her breath as Ouma continues bothering Kiibo, complaining about someone laying claim to the robot before she got a chance to ‘get up in those gears.’

“I’ll explore with you,” Tenko offers. “We could try scavenging parts from the warehouse and the game room so you have something to build with.”

“There’s fuck-all in the warehouse. I already took everything that looked halfway decent.” Iruma eyes her up. “You any good at taking shit apart?”

Well.

“I’m good at breaking things,” she offers.

The blonde considers this. “You’ll do,” she decides. “Follow the lead of this gorgeous girl genius and you’ll be back to whatever dingy dojo you crawled out of faster than this hot piece of ass makes a virgin cream his pants!”

Not everyone is as eager to have something to do.

“It’s going to be a pain to go through the whole school again,” Yumeno groans.

“No one’s investigating the entire school, though,” Shirogane points out. “We’re splitting up the work.”

Yumeno makes a disinterested sound into the tabletop, undeterred from her sulking.

“Come with us, then!” Tenko taps her fingers together, watching the point of Yumeno’s hat rise and fall with each breath. “I’ll—I can carry you!”

Yumeno rolls her head around to face Tenko. She drags her eyes to Iruma pointedly. “That would be an even bigger pain.”

“O-oh, well maybe—”

Shirogane cuts off Tenko’s floundering before she can figure out what to say. “Yumeno-san, why don’t you come with me to the second floor? There are only two rooms to investigate, so it should be plain easy to get in and out.”

Yumeno groans again, more or less agreeing to go with Shirogane.

Tojo taps away at her own Monopad, unbothered by the combination of gloves and a touch screen. “It would be prudent to have as many people as possible attempting to access the other areas. I am somewhat doubtful that we will find anything of use in the school, so I will work on opening some of the buildings outside, if that is agreeable to you all.”

“Yeah!” Ouma bounces in place, still wrapped around Kiibo’s arm. The robot looks resigned to his fate, opposite elbow planted on the table, cheek planted on his free hand, a grumpy expression on his face. “I’m _great_ at B&E, you know! I can get into all sorts of locks. That’s how I got aaaaall the way to the Prime Minister’s personal office before they kicked me out of his private quarters.”

Tojo pats his arm, too polite to tell Ouma to shut up. Her kindness will entice people to take advantage of her if she's not careful. “I have no particular skill for lock picking, but I may be able to employ… Alternative methods.”

“Wooow, Mom! Are you going to play with me and Kiiboy?”

“No.” Tojo smiles as if she would rather chew glass.

“Boo!”

“This whole thing’s gonna fall apart.” Hoshi pulls his beanie down over his eyes.

Yonaga leans across the table, pigtails dragging across its surface, dangerously close to her half-full plate. Her smile is as big as Akamatsu's and lacks any signs of stress. Tenko has to wonder if she's even worried about their situation. “Don’t say that! We’ll get out of here just fine. God wills it!”

“Oh, well, if _God_ wills it,” Hoshi mutters, sinking down in his chair.

Tojo is joined by Gokuhara, who states that he might not be smart enough to help but he can follow directions and do any heavy lifting Tojo requires. She gracefully accepts his offer, even though Tojo is clearly capable of doing her own heavy lifting.

“I kind of want to check out the Death Road of Despair again,” Amami says, leaning forward on his elbows. “Not to try and clear it, just to look around the area. We didn’t really do much investigating in the sewer itself.”

Akamatsu looks pained. She bites her lip. “A-Alright, just… Be careful, Amami-kun. Who knows what other traps are down there.”

Shinguji pipes up from the other end of the table. His yellow eyes are bright over his black mask. Its zipper jangles a little as he speaks, flashing silver in the overhead lights. “Your concern for a near-stranger is beautiful, Akamatsu-san. A truly wonderful display of humanity.”

“Isn’t it normal not to want people to get hurt?” Akamatsu mumbles.

Shinguji keeps talking, undeterred. “If it will put your mind at ease, I will accompany Amami-kun.”

“I mean, pairing up is kind of the point?” Saihara says.

“We’re using the buddy system,” Akamatsu adds. “It’s dangerous to wander around on our own.”

Amami shrugs, ambivalent to his new partner. “Fine by me. The more eyes, the better.”

“Excellent.”

Two of the creepiest people in this place exploring the overgrown campus together; that’s a match made in hell if Tenko’s ever seen one. She’s thankful that none of the girls ended up with one of them. Amami seems dependable, but his friendliness often disappears without notice. That friendliness is dangerous in and of itself—laid-back guys like Amami are good at encouraging people to let their guard down before moving in for the kill. The metaphorical kill, anyways. She doesn’t think he would murder, but she doesn’t trust him either. Shinguji’s straight up creepy. An anthropologist doesn’t present much of a threat in Tenko’s eyes, but there’s something undeniably _off_ about him. Whether he’s more or less trustworthy than anyone else has yet to be seen.

Reading people is easier when Tenko spars with them, but she’s got a pretty good read on everyone here. At least, enough to say that she can’t see any of them trying to kick off the killing game.

Not even Ouma, who is pretty much impossible to understand or get along with. She doesn’t want to believe that any of them would kill. Assuming the absolute worst in people—even men—doesn’t come naturally to her. Ouma doesn’t really give her anything to work with, though. He’s purposefully contradictory and Tenko can’t fathom what his motivations are a good seventy percent of the time. If Shinguji gets points for being unintentionally unsettling, Ouma gets negative points for being an instigator.

“I want to take another look at the courtyard.” Saihara puts a hand over his mouth, making his words twice as incomprehensible. For fuck’s sake, Saihara, get your shit together. “I don’t know what it is, but something about the Shrine of Judgement is really weird…”

The plaza didn’t look like anything special to Tenko when she stopped by yesterday afternoon. The fountain and flowers were almost _too_ normal; the calm atmosphere of the shrine doesn’t match its name or their situation at all. Tenko isn’t going to give anything built by those awful bears the benefit of the doubt—it’s undoubtedly suspicious! Doubly so with a name like that. If the point is to goad them into killing, why bother giving them someplace to relax?

Akamatsu deciphers his mumbling like a pro, the poor girl. “Let’s go, then! We can take another look at the End Wall, too.” She stands up, slamming her hands on the table. Everyone jumps. Akamatsu is oblivious to their surprise. “Alright, everyone! Let’s meet back here for lunch.”

She grabs Saihara and practically pushes him out the door, ignoring his protests. “Be diligent, guys. We can do this!” She calls over her shoulder, the door closing on Saihara’s request for her to slow down.

“Okay then…” Amami pushes his chair back, casting a look over at Shinguji. “We should get going too.”

Shinguji nods. He stands and pushes his chair flush against the table. “I believe I saw flashlights in the warehouse yesterday. They should serve our purposes admirably.”

They leave without further discussion. Tojo follows suit, Gokuhara following after her. Tenko can hear him asking her to teach him more about table manners at lunch. At least one of those ingrates is polite.

Yonaga takes this as her cue to usher Hoshi out of his seat and into the hall. “God says we should investigate the first floor!”

“That covers the school, right?” Momota presses his fists together. He turns to address Harukawa, who eyes him with disinterest. “We’re the last ones left, so I guess that makes us partners!”

Harukawa is not swayed by Momota’s friendly smile. Tenko’s so proud of her; if only Akamatsu would show the same vigilance towards Saihara’s emo boy charm.

“No,” Harukawa says in a tone that brooks no argument.

“Come on, Harukawa!” Momota says in a stunning play of stupidity. “We’ve gotta stick together, you know?”

“I don’t play well with others.” She glares at him, then pushes her empty plate away from her. “You can all keep pretending this isn’t going to crash and burn like last time, but I’m not. Do not,” she levels a finger at Momota across the table, “follow me. We’re not a team.”

Momota frowns at her back as she leaves, but lets her go. A good choice on his part, because Tenko's been itching to throw someone since she woke up. “She’ll come around,” he says, as if he’s making a promise to himself.

Ouma chooses this moment to finally release Kiibo’s arm. He bounces up to Momota, practically vibrating out of his skin. “Momota-chan should come with us!” He declares. “We might need someone dumb and strong to bust down doors for us.”

“I can do that,” Momota says, giving Ouma a thumbs up. Seconds later, he scowls. “Hey—”

Ouma cackles. Kiibo just sighs.

“Let’s go,” Tenko says, eager to leave the dining hall before their three-man circus act can begin in earnest. She nudges Yumeno until she gets up. Shirogane and Iruma follow them out into the hall, cutting off the worst of the yelling when the thick wooden door shuts. They linger there, listening to the muffled noise escaping the dining hall, until Yumeno decides to break the silence.

The redhead huffs. “Casting a detection spell eats up too much MP, so I’ll let you take the lead.”

Shirogane looks surprised. “Are you sure? I don’t think someone as plain as me is cut out to be a leader…”

Yumeno nods. “It’s too much of a pain to call the shots.”

Shirogane acquisces, still hesitant. Tenko debates reaching out to squeeze her hand, but doesn’t quite have the courage. She smiles as encouragingly as she can instead. “You’d be a great leader, Shirogane-san. You’ve already beat out half the people here since you’re a girl. You could totally take charge if you put your mind to it.”

Shirogane’s smile could light an entire city. “You really think so?”

“I do.”

Iruma sniffs derisively. “You’ve got small tits, but you’re not so bad. Talk yourself up a little more, Plain Jane, otherwise you’re never gonna lose your v-card!”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Iruma-san…”

“What, are you questioning my expertise?!”

“Okay, no,” Tenko steps between them. She can’t let them lose focus and squabble like Ouma and Momota. She pities Kiibo, just a little bit. “We’re better than this, remember? We’ve got things to do.”

“Fine,” Iruma pouts.

“Yeah, you’re right. See you later.” Shirogane starts towards the stairs to the second floor.

“Good luck,” Yumeno says. She watches Iruma cross her arms and kick at the ground, still pouting. “I think you’ll need it.”

She definitely will.

/

The game room is a bust. Iruma despairs at the lack of building materials, rummaging around in the broken Dance Dance Revolution machine. “Everything in this place is useless,” she complains.

“What are you trying to make?” Tenko asks, at a loss for what to do with the handful of wires and metal bits and bobs Iruma pulled out of the console. She settles for organizing them as best as she can on the floor. Twisty bits in one pile, wires in another, unidentifiable blobs of metal on the far right.

“Don’t have anything in particular in mind. I’d _love_ to keep working on one of my designs,” Iruma grunts, scrabbling at a nut with her bare hands. Her nails are going to be ruined when they're through. “My machine for eating while you sleep is still just a blueprint, but the one for working while you sleep is almost ready for testing. That shit’s cutting edge! Everyone’s in the market for increased productivity.”

“That’s amazing, Iruma-san!”

Iruma fumbles with the nut, fingers slipping off it. She’s forced to accept that she won’t be getting it unscrewed without a wrench and starts yanking out more wires instead. “O-Obviously! I’m a genius, you know!”

Tenko smiles. “I never doubted that.”

Iruma leans further into the console, hiding her pink cheeks by burying herself up to her shoulders. “Good! Great! Keep—keep doing that, then.”

“I will.” Tenko says, bewildered. She means it; Iruma is _brilliant_. An Ultimate title isn't something to take lightly. Surely Iruma knows that? “Hey, tell me more about your inventions. You said you want to help people be more productive, right?”

The pile of wires grows. Tenko starts sorting them by color, watching Iruma out of the corner of her eye.

“Yeah. I can’t afford to get caught up sleepin’ and eatin’, so I figure I can build something to combine all of ‘em. Eight hours is too much time to waste every day.”

“You probably don’t get a lot of rest then, huh.” That's not good. Tenko will have to make sure she gets some sleep tonight. “It’s important to keep your body healthy so you can run at max efficiency! Master never lets me skip out on meals.”

“Master sounds like he doesn’t understand how valuable the time of someone like me is.” Iruma pauses. “Is that some kind of kinky shit?”

Tenko splutters. “What? No! It’s just—it’s respectful to refer to your instructor as ‘Master’!”

“Sounds suspect to me,” Iruma laughs loudly, spit flying.

“It’s definitely not!”

Face burning, Tenko leaves Iruma to strip parts from the gaming consoles scattered haphazardly around the room. She takes her time walking the perimeter, knocking on the walls to check for hollow spaces behind the plaster. There aren’t any, nor are there any visible seams in the walls that might indicate a secret opening.

Whoever put this place together must have been in a hurry; the brick and concrete foundations seem sturdy if neglected. The academy is dirty and overgrown, well-constructed despite its desperate need for maintenance. The Monokubs said parts of the school were under construction, but everything in here looks old or broken. Are they renovating without bothering to clean up or replace the furnishings? The dorms are neat and orderly—clearly they have the ability to create habitable spaces. How they do that when none of them are taller than Tenko's knee is another mystery. The exisals are almost certainly too big to do fine detail work like making beds and hanging art.

The sliding door at the far side of the room reveals an AV room that looks more like a home theater. A quick examination reveals an expansive collection of slasher films, horror movies, and pornography. She puts _Hung, Drawn, and Fucked_ back on the shelf when Iruma enters the room, disturbed by the leers of the bloody cowboys pictured on the DVD case. She should keep Iruma away from this section, no matter what. _Everyone_ should steer clear of it. Maybe she can come back later and get rid of these disgusting films. She’ll snap them in half for good measure.

Having run out of machines to disembowl in the game room, Iruma saunters over to look at the DVD player and projector, muttering under her breath about out of date technology. The speakers fare better; they look as old as everything else to Tenko, but Iruma gives them a thoughtful look. “They put fancy-ass LCD screens in the classrooms, but they couldn’t be bothered to give us some tech from this fucking century? Goddamn cheapskates.” She pulls one of the tall speakers away from the wall, lays it down, and pries open the side panel with no hesitation.

Tenko leaves her to it and returns to her examination of the room. In the far corner, rolled up posters spill out of a box tipped on its side. Several have started to unravel, revealing the words _Ultra Despair Girls_ written across the top in a vibrant pink. Uninterested in whatever’s being advertised on the posters, she sweeps the posters back into their box and stands it back up against the wall.

The second entrance to the AV room leads back out to the hall. When Tenko tries to open the door, it only opens about twenty centimeters before getting stuck. A quick glance down reveals nothing caught in the track of the door. The frame doesn’t seem to be bent, either. What the…? Trying to force it open more does nothing. Eventually Tenko slides the door shut in defeat and turns to collect Iruma.

She protests when Tenko suggests they go to the library. “I’m not done gutting that stupid fuckin’ game,” she groans when Tenko tries to usher her away from the sound system, which has escaped being dismantled for the time being.

“You can finish later,” Tenko tries. Iruma ignores her, hunching over the speaker further.

“Iruma-san, please. We can come back for more parts after we’ve investigated.” Tenko doesn’t really mind that she’s done most (all) of the work so far since Iruma might be able to make something to help them escape. The library won’t explore itself, though. If they manage to find something new today they might not need her to build something at all. She doesn’t want to force Iruma, but if it’s for the good of the group…

“Hey!” Iruma struggles against Tenko’s grip as she pulls her out by the back of her shirt. “Watch the merchandise, shit tits!”

 _Shit tits?_ Ugh, not the time.

After her initial protest, Iruma becomes oddly pliant. If she’s secretly a pushover, Tenko will have to keep a better eye on her to make sure no one takes advantage of her. For now, she tucks the information away and makes use of Iruma’s cooperation to drag the blonde from the game room, down the hall, and into the library.

A wall of damp odor hits them square in the face as soon as the door opens. Bookcases cover most of the wall space, a couple meters short of touching the ceiling, with several stout, rectangular shelving units forming small aisles that ultimately leave the center of the room mostly unoccupied. The books are crammed so tightly into the shelves they practically burst out of them; books are piled high in sporadic heaps and stacked messily across the tops of the shelves, too. A tall ladder rests against the face of a bookcase on the right side of the room, reflecting the blue highlights of the strange black and blue globe nearby. A long table and four chairs are pushed flush against the wall at the back left of the library. The singular lamp set on the table’s surface is inadequate for lighting a work space—and now that she’s thinking about it, the mounted wall lights are pretty dim, too. Tenko doesn’t spend much time in libraries, but she’s pretty sure it’s not supposed to be so dark.

It looks like no one’s been in here in years. She imagines that any librarian would have a conniption at the sight of this disaster library.

“God, it reeks in here.” Pinching her nose, Iruma shakes off Tenko’s hand and stalks inside. She kicks over a stack of books near the entrance.

“Iruma-san, what are you doing?”

“I’m investigating, what’s it fuckin’ look like?”

It looks like you’re making a mess, Iruma-san. It’s already hard enough to navigate the cramped floor-space without you making it worse.

Tenko sighs. Iruma stalks towards the back of the library, knocking over more books here and there. She disappears behind a tall shelf and starts rummaging around. Is Iruma actually looking around, or is she just moving things around back there?

She supposes it doesn’t matter. Starting with the wall by the entrance, she repeats her tapping method. The bookcases block her access to most of the wall space, so she removes a few from the shelves, hoping to be able to reach through the back. The bookcases are close-backed, though. Maybe she could move them away from the wall? That seems like a lot of work, but she knows she’s strong enough. If she gets Iruma to help her take the books off the shelves, it’ll take less time and the bookcases will be lighter and easier to maneuver.

“Hey, Iruma-san—”

Behind her, the door at the front of the library slams open. Ouma barrels through, Momota hot on his heels and threatening to teach him a lesson. Kiibo follows after them at a slower pace, a mixture of anxiety and exasperation on his face as he watches Ouma and Momota play an impromptu game of keep-away around one of the thick support columns in the center of the room.

“Guys, please,” Kiibo protests half-heartedly. “We still have work to do.”

He goes ignored. Iruma sticks her head out from behind her shelf at the sound of Kiibo’s voice, looking more interested in getting her hands on Kiibo’s sophisticated machinery than actually listening to what he says.

Ouma abandons the column, retreating behind one of the shorter shelves, effectively boxing himself in. The aisles are fairly wide, but there’s not much of a chance of avoiding Momota if he rounds the unruly pile of books at the end of the shelf and enters the aisle himself. Luckily for Ouma, Momota’s an idiot.

“Get back here, you brat!” Momota lunges over the top of the shelf, landing hard on his stomach and winding himself.

Ouma shrieks in delight and ducks under Momota’s arms. He prances back, giggling as Momota wheezes. “Ah-ah, Momota-chan! You gotta do better than that!”

Tenko wonders if he planned for Momota to do that. He seems too smart to corner himself, as reluctant as she is to admit it. She decides that Ouma being able to accurately predict that happening is an unnerving idea and for her own sake she banishes the thought entirely.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Iruma yelps when Ouma hides behind her. Momota slows when he sees where his target has gone, glancing at Tenko before cautiously approaching Iruma.

“Don’t complain, Iruma-chan. Be useful for once and be my shield, okay?” Ouma grabs her arms from behind and uses them to steer her around, keeping her between himself and Momota. The scowl on Iruma’s face is buried under a heavy blush at the insult, a loud squeak escaping her throat as her resistance dies down.

Tenko scowls. She shoos Momota back to the front of the library with a harsh glare. He’s smart enough not to challenge her, which is satisfying even if Tenko’s a little disappointed she didn’t get a chance to throw him.

Ouma boos at the loss of his pursuer. “You’re no fun,” he informs Tenko as she drags him away from Iruma by the back of his creepy bondage jacket.

“You’re obnoxious,” she tells him, deadpan.

For some reason, Ouma lights up. He wriggles against her light grasp, more like a dog—a little, yappy one—waiting for a ball to be thrown than someone attempting to escape. “Does this mean you’re gonna replace Momota-chan as my playmate, Chabashira-chan?”

“What?”

“He wants to play games,” Momota says, effectively explaining nothing. “Even though we keep telling him we still have work to do.”

“Ouma-kun has been… Uncooperative,” Kiibo confirms.

“What! That’s so mean.” Ouma sags, letting some of his weight be held up by Tenko’s hold on his shirt. She considers dropping him when he starts crying loudly. “I tried to pick every lock you asked me to, how could you say that?”

“Don’t act innocent! You’ve been provoking us this whole time.”

Ouma’s tears stop. He tilts his head to the side, confusion crossing over his face, no doubt less than half as genuine as it looks. “Well, yeah. What else would I do to pass the time?”

Literally anything else, Ouma.

“You could stop wasting everyone’s time and actually help us out for a change!”

“But Momota-kun, you wasted just as much time arguing with him…”

“Cooperation is one of my very best skills!” Ouma declares over Momota’s spluttering. “It’s not my fault you guys are so boring.”

“But we didn’t get anything done.” Kiibo crosses his arms.

At the same time, Momota jabs a finger in Ouma’s direction, looking like he might’ve started chasing him again if not for Tenko’s presence. “We’re not boring! You’re just a weird little asshole. What does being boring have to do with working together, anyways?”

“Wait, you couldn’t open _anything_?” Tenko does drop Ouma this time, though he barely stumbles when his support disappears. He immediately turns to address her, to Momota’s displeasure.

Iruma cuts in before anyone can answer Tenko’s question, easily matching the volume of Momota’s complaints. “Hey, shota! Weren’t you talking big about how skilled you are at BJs?"

"I think he said B&E, Iruma-san—"

"After all that bragging, you didn’t get a single one open? If your sex life is anything like your lock picking skills, no wonder you’re still a virgin!”

A fair point. The locks, not the sex thing. Tenko cannot emphasize enough how much she doesn't care about Ouma's virginity or lack thereof.

Ouma’s smile turns nasty. “Well, I wouldn’t expect a dumb cow like Iruma-chan to understand, but if _I_ can’t pick them we’re probably dealing with the big leagues!”

“The big leagues?” Momota repeats.

Ouma rolls his eyes. One hand flaps in the air at shoulder height, back and forth as if waving away an unpleasant smell. “I can’t spend all day spelling things out for idiots like Momota-chan and Iruma-chan. Supreme leaders like me have pretty high consultation fees, and I don’t do charity work.”

He, Momota, and Iruma devolve into loud squabbling. Tenko finds her earlier sympathy for Kiibo returning full-force when he covers his face with his hands. She and Iruma weren’t the most productive before these buffoons came crashing in, but they were doing better than _this_. How do boys get anything done this way? Can’t they do what needs to be done and get it out of the way before they start with their nonsense?

Kiibo agrees with her, if the agonized look he gives her is anything to go by. “We were supposed to meet up with Tojo-san and Gonta-kun, but with Ouma-kun around I don’t think we’re going to get much accomplished.”

“He really couldn’t unlock a single door? Are you sure he actually tried?”

“I don’t see any reason for Ouma-kun to lie about that.” Kiibo shrugs. “He’s hard to read, but I think failing at something he takes pride in doing well upset him.”

Not that Ouma needs a reason to do anything, let alone lie. He tells lies for the sake of it, committing to some more than others, leading them in circles trying to figure out what, if anything, is true. It’s impossible to tell if he has an ulterior motive for his actions or if he simply enjoys leading people around by the nose. Still, if he really can’t do anything about the locks, what does that mean for them? Tojo and Gokuhara might have better luck, but she kind of doubts it. Tojo’s a maid, and despite her considerable skillset, Tenko doubts she’s been asked to do this kind of thing before. If Gokuhara could break down any of the doors, he would have done it before now.

Ugh, thinking so pessimistically isn’t going to help anyone. She has to do her part to support Akamatsu’s plan, and that means keeping her head on straight! Positive thoughts only! Maybe they won’t be able to get into the restricted areas, but surely the day won’t be a complete waste. They’ll compare notes and find a way to move forward from this, Tenko’s sure of it.

“Have you two finished searching the basement?” Kiibo’s hesitant curiosity breaks her concentration, reminding her of the robot’s presence and the argument still raging on in the background.

She glares at him even though she's not really upset that he interrupted her thoughts, cracking her knuckles just for something to do. If he happens to feel threatened by the action, that’s just a bonus. “What, are you doubting us?”

“N-No!” He puts his hands up and takes a small step back. “I was just curious!”

“... Hmph.” She’ll accept it for now. “We were only in here for a few minutes before those degenerates barged in and interrupted us.”

“I see.” Kiibo straightens up, suddenly hopeful. “Then perhaps Ouma-kun could remain here and assist you while Momota-kun and I join the others?”

Tenko’s instinctive reaction is to shout ‘hell no.’ Her second thought is to toss Kiibo across the library for even suggesting that she would let Ouma hang around Iruma for an extended period of time. But… If she says no, the boys will outnumber Tojo four to one. Tojo can take care of herself, but maybe it would be better to keep Ouma here, even if Tenko’s already about two seconds away from pushing him down some stairs.

“Fine. But only because Akamatsu-san asked us to stay in groups!” Tenko relents, frowning at the accident waiting to happen that is Momota shaking his clenched fist in Ouma’s face as the boy verbally rallies with Iruma. She’s… probably better off not knowing what they’re saying.

Kiibo's face betrays his surprise at her easy agreement. He wades into the crossfire to extract Momota, informing them of the change of plans as he ushers Momota out the side door. Their thanks and goodbyes are given over their shoulders as they leave, apparently eager to leave Ouma behind. She can’t blame them, but she hopes her displeasure is clear in her bitter frown as the boys scram before Ouma can catch up to them.

“Good luck trying to break into things without me!” He shouts after them. There’s no response, prompting the small pout on his face to deepen. “I’m not some kid that needs a babysitter,” Ouma protests as the door swings shut behind his former groupmates.

Hm, debatable. Tenko’s suspicious of all men on principle, but Ouma is particularly untrustworthy. She’s not thrilled to be watching him, especially since poor Iruma’s stuck with them, but it’s better than letting him run around unattended.

Iruma snorts. “You sure about that, shitty shota? You definitely look the part.”

“And you look like someone I’d expect to find on the other side of a gloryhole in a rundown gas station bathroom!”

“Stop,” Tenko warns. Her patience is already worn thin. Is it too late to call Kiibo back and make him take Ouma with them?

Probably. Damn it.

“No. Fun.” Ouma reiterates, sticking his tongue out at her.

“Just—” Tenko squeezes her hands into fists to keep herself from grabbing Ouma and throttling him. “Let’s just look around, okay? Then we can all leave.”

“I thought you wanted to suck up to Akamatsu-chan,” Ouma says bluntly. Tenko scowls at him, opening her mouth to tear into him—Akamatsu’s plan makes the most sense right now, and it’s the only one they have. If he has such a big problem with it, why doesn’t _he_ try and come up with something better? Isn’t his talent supposed to be helpful in situations like this?—but Iruma interrupts again.

“She sure fuckin’ does!” Iruma nudges Ouma’s arm with a perverse grin, their previous argument apparently already forgotten. She snickers at her own joke.

The quick turn-around bothers Tenko. How can Iruma get over such harsh insults so quickly even though they clearly affect her?! He didn’t even apologize for being a terribly stereotypical, rude boy! If she weren’t certain that they’d only end up talking in circles, she’d demand an apology on Iruma’s behalf.

Boys are the _worst_. Listening to the two of them is going to give her a migraine.

Since Tenko is a reasonable, responsible girl, she tells them to get to work and walks away before they can object. She stays close enough to keep an ear on their conversation (just in case) but doesn’t put much energy into convincing them to actually investigate. They’ll either help or they won’t, and nothing Tenko says is going to sway them when they’re so determined to bother each other and Tenko by association. As annoying as listening to them is, at least they’re out of her way.

Fighting must get old fast, because the next time she looks up, they’ve wandered away from each other. Iruma unenthusiastically flips through some of the books she kicked over earlier while Ouma paces at the back of the room, clambering up and down the ladder seemingly at random.

They work in silence, not together but in tandem. Occasionally someone makes a comment about something or other, minor details that don’t take them any closer to getting out of here: a warning not to trip on a loose tile in the center of the room, how uncomfortably rigid the chairs are, the undecipherable gibberish written in every book they open. Tenko finds herself drifting towards the back wall, pressing one shoulder to a bookcase so she can lean on it, eyes fixated vaguely on the scuffed flooring as she considers her next move.

They’ve been over every centimeter of the library. All they’re doing now is looking at the same inconsequential details they’ve already been over, but lunch isn't for another couple hours. Are the others still diligently investigating, or is everyone else waiting for them? No matter what their classmates are doing, the three of them are wasting time, procuring a grand total of zero answers to any of their many questions.

Is it alright to call it quits, though? The basement has yielded no answers, not even a hint as to why they’re here or how they might leave. The idea of returning to her friends with no results sends a ripple of shame through her, the intensity making her shudder, a bitter taste suddenly on her tongue.

An abrupt tap on her shoulder surprises her. One moment she’s listening to the faint scrape of pages being turned and the rattle of the ladder every time it’s moved and the next there’s a hand on her shoulder, a hand _touching her_ from behind, some unknown threat at her back where they think she’s vulnerable, some coward trying to take exploit any weakness they can find, some idiot that’s about to find out that Tenko is willing to set aside the principles of Aikido outside of the dojo. There are people in this world unworthy of honorable combat.

Blind panic washes over her, thoughts fizzling out as fast as they form, but that’s fine—Tenko’s body knows what to do even when her brain freezes up. It takes her less than a second to react, less than three to get in a proper stance for a wheel throw.

Tenko seizes the arm the hand’s attached to and yanks its owner to one side, keeping low to the ground. Sweeping back up and around, she flips her attacker onto his back. Halfway through the throw she remembers that there were others in the library with her, people who probably wanted to know why she’d stopped working. The white clothes and purple hair register in the back of her mind as Ouma hits the ground like a sack of bricks, the crack of his head on the floor overwriting his shock with pain.

It’s a simple Aikido move, one Tenko’s done more times than she can count. But this isn’t the dojo, where the mats prevent even the newbies from getting hurt, and Ouma isn’t one of the students trained to redirect their momentum and roll out of a throw.

For a horrible moment, Ouma is still as the dead. So much for never playing the killing game, Tenko thinks, the morbid thought punctuated by a slightly hysterical squeak. Then Ouma blinks, and she realizes that he’s not breathing because he’s winded, not because he’s dead. Of course he isn’t. Aikido isn’t meant to be lethal; even Neo-Aikido, which she developed specifically to give one the offensive edge Aikido lacks, doesn’t include moves that could kill somebody so easily. Tenko wants to keep men off of her, not murder them.

Iruma appears at her shoulder, summoned by the crash Ouma’s body made when he landed. “Jesus fucking Christ! What happened?”

Ouma doesn’t reply, too busy struggling through the feeling of suffocation that comes with a hard reboot of the lungs. The first breath is always the worst, she knows from experience. It’s scary, those few seconds of your brain scrambling to process what just happened, the knowledge that you need to start breathing again and the inability to force your body into compliance doing nothing to help that fear settle. His cheeks are bright red and the first thing he does when he gets air back into his lungs is cough.

She wonders if he felt that fear the same way she did.

The thought snaps her out of the defensive stance she’d instinctively adopted when Ouma touched her, dropping to her knees at his side. Shame floods her, more intense now than it had been just minutes ago. “He startled me,” is the weak explanation she offers. Her hands hover over his chest, wondering if she should help him sit up but reluctant to do so. Is he concussed? Should concussed people be upright?

“Not that I’m complaining, but there are better ways to get him to shut up,” Iruma says. The joke falls flat in the tense atmosphere.

Ouma squints up at the two of them. The stutter-stop of his breathing sets Tenko on edge; it makes it apparent that the rise and fall of his chest is painful and forced. Here, trapped in this miserable excuse for a school under the guise of a killing game, she can’t help but think that the sound is much worse.

She can’t quite banish the thought that they almost sound like someone’s dying breaths if she closes her eyes. He doesn’t look worried. Tenko keeps her eyes open anyways, unwilling to feed the simmering anxiety curling around her shoulders.

The time it takes for Ouma to collect himself enough to speak feels like an eternity condensed into a single second. It’s probably barely been two minutes; she knows he’s fine, that even if she _did_ concuss him it had to be minor. That doesn’t make the adrenaline fade from Tenko’s veins any faster, though. She's never regretted attacking a boy, so why is she so afraid now? Nothing happened.

She's never really _hurt_ anyone before. 

“I had no idea you were such a scaredy cat, Chabashira-chan.” The words are forced out between gasps, a bit wheezy but strong. He smiles, a half-measure of his usual grin that pulls up into the real thing when Tenko sighs in relief.

Relieved that she didn’t seriously injure someone who can’t fight back, that’s all. The intensity of it agitates her. What was he thinking, touching her out of the blue like that? Touching her at all? He should learn to keep his hands to himself, and if Tenko has to be the one to teach him that lesson, she won’t feel bad about it. She won’t.

“Ouma-san, you hit your head. Stay still, we should make sure you—” Ouma brushes her hands off his shoulders when she tries to prevent him from getting up. When did she put them there?

“I’m fine, geez.” He struggles upright, crossing his legs and drawing his spine into a straight line. He faces Tenko squarely, making direct eye contact, his chin level. Whether he does it to open his airway as much as possible or to regain control over the situation is unclear. “If you’re not careful, I’m gonna start thinking you like me or something.”

Tenko scoffs. Her heart hasn't slowed down yet. She's sweating. He’s going to have a sizable knot on the back of his head for sure, but he bounced back quickly enough that she can rest assured that she didn’t cause undue damage. She surreptitiously checks if his pupils are unevenly dilated, though. Just to be sure.

“He’s fine,” Iruma dismisses, eyes raking over Ouma’s body once before she nods to herself. Her shoulders relax minutely, concern that Tenko hadn’t noticed until it was gone dissipating like smoke in the wind. “What did you do, dumbass?”

“How do you know Chabashira-chan didn’t attack me for no reason?” Ouma barely looks at Iruma’s unimpressed figure before cracking another grin and doing jazz hands. “That’s a lie, though. All I did was try to get her attention so she’d stop thinking before she hurt herself. I don’t think she exercises her brain as much as her muscles.”

Tenko ignores the insult. (A backhanded compliment? Whatever.) She doesn’t feel too guilty about throwing Ouma now that she knows he isn't concussed, because he really is a menace and she doesn’t have a problem with throwing any male that lays a hand on her, but she didn’t mean to actually hurt him. Boy or not, they’re 'classmates' now, a fact that feels oddly right even as it makes her nauseous. The momentary panic she felt as he laid on the floor is enough for her to grant Ouma a brief period of tolerance, if only because she’s not fully convinced that he isn’t trying to ignore a killer headache.

“I knew a disgusting boy like you would try to touch me,” she sniffs, trying to deliver the line as she would in any other scenario: derisively and confident that, one way or another, he’d confirm her suspicions. Because he will—what does it matter if she struck first? She doesn’t quite hit the mark. “It’s only fair that I’d throw you.”

“You ever heard of a warning shot?” Iruma asks, somewhere between incredulous and amused. She’s probably going to make fun of Ouma for this later. Tenko can get behind that.

“That was it.” There’s no reason to go easy on boys. They’ll take it as an invitation for a repeat performance! It’s best to make herself clear the first time around. When words don’t work, actions speak loudest.

“How ruthless. Chabashira-chan is sooo strong, it’s really evil to beat up people weaker than you. Maybe I should recruit you to my organization.”

“As if I’d ever follow _you_.”

“Hm, you’re right. You’re a bit too ugly to fit in, anyways.” He jerks his leg out of the way when Tenko reaches out to pinch it.

She doesn’t protest when he reaches his limit for staying still. He tucks his legs under him, kneeling on the ground while he stretches his arms above his head. “This was fun and all, but I think it’s about time we give up on this shithole.” Ouma feigns a yawn into one hand. He makes as if to stand up.

Tenko’s hands act on their own again when she sees him drop back down; they shoot out to steady him in case he’s too dizzy to stand or passes out. It becomes evident as soon as she makes contact that he doesn’t need the support. He’s steady on his feet, frozen in an awkward crouch with his eyes fixed on the floor.

“What’s wrong now?” Iruma says, aiming for annoyed but unable to keep worry from coloring her voice. “Hey, jailbait, you gonna puke or what?”

Ouma doesn’t acknowledge her, not even to point out that technically they’re all jailbait. He relaxes into a more natural stance, his weight balanced on his toes with his forearms braced on his thighs. He doesn’t _look_ sick, at least. Any concern Tenko may have had melts away as annoyance bubbles up in her chest at the continued radio silence. “Ouma-san?”

It’s possible that he’s pulling her leg. Somehow, she doesn’t think that’s what’s happening. Ouma’s jokes and lies thus far have all involved putting on a show. While it’s possible that he’s acting now, this doesn’t involve very much effort on his part. He invests himself in even the smallest fibs, not because he believes them himself but because he takes pride in performing. Or maybe he’s just in love with the sound of his own voice. Throwing him can only give her so much insight, and it's not like his own lies bother him.

Whatever the case, there’s no _emotion_ to this scene. Ouma likes to exaggerate, sure, but it’s not like everything he says is over dramatic. If it were, people wouldn’t fall for his lies nearly as often, and people like Ouma thrive getting reactions. There’s no way to know for sure, so she decides to tentatively put her distrust aside.

“What _is_ that…” His voice is the quietest she’s ever heard it, audible only because of their proximity. The fingers of one hand trace across what Tenko realizes are scrapes on the tile. A wide half circle tracks across the tiles directly in front of the bookcase, pushing out on the left side and disappearing under the wood panel at the bottom of the shelf, disturbing the thick coat of grime on the floor. It looks like a rainbow, if rainbows had been designed by the same people who name men’s shampoo.

“Is your head fuckin’ broken? Someone probably scratched the shit out of the floor when they were bringing the furniture in. Oak wood is heavy as fuck.”

Iruma’s scathing comment isn’t enough to recapture Ouma’s attention, which is both a relief and unnerving. It’s not like Ouma to pass up the opportunity to instigate anyone, especially Iruma, and he’s done it twice in the last minute. His eyes are sharp and focused when he stands to examine the shelf, his attention elsewhere. Tenko didn’t know he could look so serious.

“I wonder…” Ouma says, tipping his head back to stare at the top of the bookcase.

Tenko follows his gaze to the empty space atop the shelf. Odd, considering just how many books there are in this library.

Ouma digs his fingers into the tiny gap between the bookcases—God, how do they even _fit_ in there, does he have freakishly thin fingers?—and pulls with a surprising amount of strength. Predictably, nothing happens. A book on one of the half-full shelves above Ouma’s head slides out of its standing position and collapses, toppling to the floor as the entire bookcase wobbles. It hits the ground with a resounding smack, causing Iruma to step back in alarm.

“Watch it!”

“Ouma-san, what are you doing?” Tenko asks nervously. She eyes the books, hands raised as if to catch any stray projectiles before they can hit Ouma and concuss him for real. She sizes up some of the larger books, certain that they could squash him flat if they fell from that height.

“Maybe the other side?” He says, clearly still talking to himself. Tenko’s question goes ignored as he sets about worming his fingers into the space on the opposite side.

The bookshelf slides away from the wall with a rumble and a groan. It swings to the left, pivoting on one corner as if on hinges. Ouma is forced to step out of the way of the bookcase as it reveals the wall—or rather, the door concealed behind it.

Well, that explains the drag marks on the floor.

The door is split down the middle, mimicking Monokuma’s black and white coloring. A card reader is mounted to the right of the door, shiny and new, totally out of place among the mildew-infested books.

“Holy shit,” Iruma says.

“What the fuck,” Tenko says.

“Cool!” Ouma chirps.

The urge to dropkick him intensifies when he skips forward to examine the doors, hands tucked behind his back as he leans forward in interest. That level of nonchalance can _not_ be normal.

“Why is there a door there,” Tenko asks, tone devoid of emotion. Why does this school have to be so _weird_ on top of everything else? Why can’t escaping at least be straightforward if she has to deal with all these clashing personalities _and_ so many boys? “I didn’t sign up to be in a bad mystery novel.”

"Pretty sure none of us signed up to be here," Iruma grumbles. The tension has left her body, replaced with bright curiosity.

A vague hum comes from Ouma’s direction. He’s peering at the card reader in curiosity, attention once again unable to be caught by conversation. Not bothering to look over his shoulder at them, his words are said without inflection, sounding distracted and mindless. “That’s too bad, Chabashira-chan, since we’re living a murder mystery. The exposition is the worst part! They always drag it on for too long. Maybe that’s why none of you know how to have a good time.”

Even when he’s absorbed in something else, he spouts bullshit. What is that, some kind of fucked up instinct?

Shit, it might be some kind of fucked up instinct. They don't have time for this, _she_ doesn't have time for this. It's none of her business and Tenko doesn't care to find out if she's right. He's a boy, he doesn't need her help. She doesn't want to give it, either, no matter what ideas poke around in her head.

Iruma, disinterested in the door itself, has taken to scouring the metal plating on the back of the bookcase. “Thing looks simple enough. They’ve got pivot hinges and steel reinforcements to compensate for weight. Could be cable operated, but I doubt it. It’s probably electric.” She runs her fingers over the circular protrusion at the bottom, a frustrated grunt ringing in the air. “I don’t know if pulling on the bookcase is how it’s _supposed_ to be opened, but it’s a safe assumption to make for now.”

“You can tell all that just from looking at the door? That’s incredible!” Tenko doesn’t bother looking too hard at the door, knowing she won’t be able to glean any information Iruma couldn’t. She doesn’t know much about technology but it feels wrong to let the others do all the work.

For once, Ouma looks thoughtful. He abandons the card reader to stand at Iruma’s other side. “None of that information is helpful, but it _is_ a pretty good skill. Guess there’s a reason we keep you around after all, Iruma-chan!”

Iruma slaps his leg. “I’m way more useful than you are, so shut your trap before I shove a gag in it for you.”

“We should get the others,” Tenko says, taking a step towards the door, reluctant to leave the two of them alone. Iruma is vulgar at the best of times, but she’s quite nice to talk to when she’s not trying so hard to convince everyone around her that she’s a genius. On the other hand, Ouma is rude and picks fights like he has nothing better to do—like _none of them_ have anything more important to focus their attention on. Plus, he and Iruma do nothing but descend into increasingly disgusting insults when within arm’s reach of one another. Normally she would be reluctant to leave _any_ girl to suffer in his presence, but Iruma oscillates rapidly between annoyed and delighted by this.

If she leaves them here there's a possibility there won't be a library to return to.

(Can it be considered an argument if they’re both enjoying themselves? Is it really only banter if their taunts are pointed and crude like that? Tenko practically lives at her dojo, she has no idea if any of this could be considered normal. She should ask Akamatsu or Tojo later. They seem like the most well-adjusted people in this place.)

"No." Ouma's voice makes her freeze, no more than three steps away. "We can't tell anyone."

"Like hell! This is exactly the kind of shit we were looking for!"

"We have to tell them." Tenko crosses her arms, scowling. "We can't keep this information to ourselves!"

"Let me rephrase that." He draws himself up to his full height, which isn't nearly as intimidating as the hard gaze he fixes on her. He speaks as if he expects them to listen and obey, shoulders back, face grim. His voice lacks its usual levity, all expression drained from his face to make room for the determined furrow of his brow, the downward tilt of his lips—he may as well be made of stone.

This is someone used to giving orders. This is someone used to taking charge. 'Ultimate Supreme Leader' suddenly seems much more fitting for this commanding, unmoving boy.

"You're not going to tell anyone, or somebody's going to die."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next: our trio of killing game busters comes together, and tenko tries to take a nap. tries.
> 
> i should also make it clear that this is a rewrite, not just a canon divergence au. i'm changing the order of the motives and, in some cases, removing them to make room for stuff i want to write. i'm self indulgent but hey, who isn't? tenko's free time events are coming up soon, too, so if you have anything you'd like to see let me know ;0 if it doesn't go against what i've got planned, i'll do my best to include requests!
> 
> feel free to talk to me on my [tumblr](https://knuckle--bones.tumblr.com/). i'm trying to post there more so people know when to expect updates
> 
> thanks for reading!


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